We Will Never Be the Same
by 76-trombones
Summary: Pranks always have consequences, some harsher than others. What happens when one goes too far? Marauder drama - Sirius, Remus, James, and Lily
1. Release

"You can't keep avoiding him, Moony."

"Yes, I can."

Remus carefully pressed cold cream into his fading bruise, hissing at the pain. He was covered in cuts – mostly superficial as the worse ones had been professionally healed – and his body was the sickly shades of old bruises – green and yellow. Madame Pomfrey had only released him from the hospital wing (reluctantly) earlier today after keeping him there for about a week. He usually had a rough time after a change, but this month was different. In addition to the usual agony of transforming – which was bad enough as it was – things had gotten a bit out of hand . . . there had been a fight . . . Remus could scarcely look at James and Peter, embarrassed for his lack on control in his lycanthropic state, but there was one person in particular he was going out of his way to avoid: his former best friend, Sirius Black.

James anxiously perched on a sink next to his friend, tossing a roll of gauze back and forth between his hands. He, too, was covered in bruises and cuts, but had been released from the hospital wing days earlier than his friend. Most of the bruises and recent scars on Remus had been inflicted by James. He felt guilty about it, seeing Remus in obvious pain and discomfort because of them, but it had been necessary. If he hadn't stopped Remus . . . He didn't even want to think about the consequences.

"Look, you know Sirius didn't mean for it to go that far," James said, desperate for his friends to patch things up and return to normal.

"But it did!" Remus snapped back. "Look, I know you're just trying to fix things, but I can't just act like it never happened."

"I know, I know. What he did was awful . . . but it was just a prank."

"No, a prank is tying someone's shoelaces together or . . . or putting the entire contents of a first year's trunk on top of the Astronomy Tower. Sending someone to certain death is not a prank. It's the plan of a bloody sociopath," Remus grumbled.

"It wasn't _certain_ death. . . . He made it out all right. . . ." James said, not meeting his friend's eyes. They both knew that Severus Snape would not have survived Sirius' "prank" were it not for James' intervention.

"Sirius Black doesn't think about anyone but himself," Remus growled, reapplying a bandage where an antler had scratched his side.

"That's not true . . ."

"Did he even think about what would happen if his prank went through? He taught Snape how to find me when I'm . . . like that. I could've killed him! So we'd have a dead student, I'd be sent to Azkaban or be killed in retaliation, my parents and Dumbledore would be attacked for exposing me to people. . . ." Remus bowed his head. "And it'd be all my fault. . . ."

"What?" James' heart sunk at this sudden turn. "Don't say that. You couldn't know this would happen. No one could."

"No . . . my condition was supposed to be _my_ secret. No one was supposed to find out. I let you guys figure it out; it was only a matter of time before the secret spread." Remus hung his head. It hadn't been easy, being turned into a werewolf at the age of six. His entire life had changed and he had been too young to fully understand what was going on. When he closed his eyes, he could sometimes remember what it was like to go a month without changing.

He hadn't understood what happened back then. His parents had stressed Stranger Danger but they had never warned him about puppy dogs. It had been late at night and he was playing outside for "just five more minutes" when the dog came up to him. It was a giant dog – grey with matted fur. Remus had always loved animals, so he had reached out to pet it . . . . The pain was incredible. When the dog . . . the wolf . . . the werewolf sank his teeth into Remus' shoulder and shook him like a rag doll. But he didn't kill him. Sometimes, Remus wished he had.

His mother had found him, lying in a pool of blood. If that sight alone hadn't been horrific enough, Remus' Muggle mother had to endure the reality that – not only were there werewolves in the world – her son was now one of them. She cried nonstop at the beginning. Remus' father wouldn't meet his eyes for months, particularly as the moon waxed larger; he had spent much of his time locked in his study, drinking and drowning in guilt for instigating Fenrir Greyback, the Dark Lord's lapdog. Remus' parents' marriage was never quite the same after the attack – what with the yelling and the fights, blame flying every which way.

Nowadays, Mrs. Lupin was overly protective of her infected baby – her only child. She wrote him letters every week, anxious to know everything about his comings and goings. Mr. Lupin was the opposite, maintaining a rather professional (albeint distant) relationship with his son. Life for Remus was usually best at Hogwarts, surrounded by friends who loved and accepted him regardless of his secrets . . . but apparently, he was just entertainment to one of them.

"Forgive him, Remus. He didn't mean anything by it," James pleaded.

"You always take his side," Remus grumbled, tossing the first aid kit back to James. "I have to go. . . ." He straightened his clothes and left the bathroom, ignoring his friend's frustrated sigh.


	2. Confrontation

"I still think it's unfair that you have to leave early. You shouldn't be punished for Sirius' prank!" Lily Evans complained, sitting on Remus' bed and helping him fold socks. "It's so wrong."

"I'm not leaving early as a punishment," Remus said with a shrug. "Dumbledore and my parents chose it for my own protection. Better for me to go home a few months early than give Snape the temptation of telling everyone."

"Sev wouldn't do that," Lily said hastily. "I know everybody hates him . . . and he's kind of a prick . . . but he's not that bad inside. And he doesn't even particularly hate you!" Remus watched her desperately cling to the memories of her and Severus as children, back before he fell in with the wrong crowd.

"He may not hate me, but he does hate Sirius. You know he'd throw me under the bus to hurt him."

Lily didn't have anything to say to that and concentrated intently on the argyle stitching of the socks she was holding. "I'm gonna miss you, you know."

"I'm gonna miss you, too," Remus confessed.

"I'll write you every day," Lily vowed.

Remus chuckled, "You don't have to. I know you'll probably be busy with everything. . . . ."

"I'm never too busy for my best friend." The two of them exchanged a soft smile and fell into an easy silence. Remus considered himself lucky to have a friend like Lily. Even in his darkest hour, she knew how to make him feel human. If the other Marauders had supported his condition by providing company during his transformation, Lily had been there to support him in his human form – the only person to whom he felt comfortable baring his soul.

Suddenly, the door burst open and Sirius rushed in. "Is it true? Is it true you're leaving?"

Remus looked intently at the sweater he was folding, deliberately ignoring Sirius. He couldn't think of anything he could say that wouldn't cause a fight, so he chose not to say anything at all.

"Sirius, what are you doing here?" Lily snapped, standing up to protect Remus.

"It's my room, too, so mind your own business," he snapped back. Sirius looked from the packed trunk to Remus to Lily's accusatory glare and back. "Were you planning on telling me?"

"It's kind of supposed to be a quiet thing and, well, you can't keep a secret," Remus said, bitterness dripping from every word.

"Come on, Moony. You know it wasn't supposed to happen like that," Sirius assured him, taking a step closer.

"Then pray tell, Sirius. How was it supposed to happen? Were you going to call prank before or after I _mauled_ him?" Remus threw his sweater into his luggage, finding it easier to take his rage out on perfectly innocent cable-knit than the offending companion.

"I just wanted to spook him a bit, teach the little shit to mind his own business!" Sirius exclaimed.

"By exploiting me! Damn it, Sirius, you never think!" Remus yelled. His baser instincts wanted to launch him across the room, grab Sirius by the throat, and shake him until he went limp or bash his head repeatedly against the floor until he stopped struggling. Thankfully, Remus had spent the last ten years learning how to keep his temper and avoid his more violent desires; instead, he kicked his bedpost.

"Remus. . . ." Lily whispered, touching his shoulder and grounding him back in reality. Remus cracked his neck and slowly started relaxing at her touch.

"I only told him how to get into the tunnel! I didn't tell him to actually follow it and walk right into you. It's his own fault. Serves him right for being such a snoop!" Remus stared at Sirius, straight with pride, cheeks flushed with anger. He looked so commanding and in control . . . but he wasn't. For all his grandstanding, Sirius was just trying to justify himself for something he knew was wrong. They wouldn't get anywhere like this.

"You really don't see this as your fault, to you?" Remus asked quietly.

"It's not," Sirius said firmly, completely convinced.

"Whatever," Remus muttered, locking his trunk. "I have to catch the train."

"You're not even gonna say goodbye to everyone?" Sirius asked incredulously. "Get over yourself!"

Lily stepped between them and took Remus' arm. "Come on, I'll walk you to the station. . . ."

The two of them swept out of the castle and across the lawn toward the train station. Lily quietly whispered, "You know the two of you will never be the same again . . . right?"

"At this point, Lily, I don't even care. . . ."


	3. Train Clash

"So, what did I miss?" Remus asked, squeezing into the crowded train compartment. Peter yelped and jumped up into his seat as Remus' trunk banged his knees. They'd ridden the Hogwarts Express for seven years and it happened every time. Remus mouthed an apology and hoisted it into the overhead compartment, trying to decide where to sit. On one side, James and Lily; on the other, Peter and Sirius. Remus quietly slipped in next to Lily.

"You didn't miss much," Lily said with a grin. "I _did _write you every day." She giggled as James pulled her back into a passionate kiss. Remus sat awkwardly, not quite sure where to look.

"You at least had the pleasure of not watching them get together," Sirius said. "Disgusting, they are." He threw a raisin at them, which bounced harmlessly off the rim of James' glasses. "Like animals in heat."

"I went on a date!" Peter announced proudly.

"It's not a date unless she knows it's a date," Sirius snapped at him.

Peter deflated. Remus immediately felt bad for him. James and Sirius had all the girls they could want (and more), and even Remus had gone out a few times although he broke it off before there was honest commitment involved, but Peter had not been so lucky. He didn't have the charm or the good looks or the wits or the mystery that the other boys possessed. Remus knew Peter had a heart of gold, but nobody ever stopped looking at the other three to notice him.

"You'll have to catch me up," Remus assured Peter.

Peter smiled and nodded, relieved that someone cared. "So, what did you do all summer?"

Remus shrugged, "Not much. My dad is trying to write a memoir, so he went to Paris for a couple of weeks and my Mum and I visited her family in Derbyshire. It was nice. Lots of heavily wooded areas; you could run for ages and never encounter another person."

"That sounds nice," Peter said. "I had to stay and help my Mum clean house."

"And I got laid," Sirius interjected. "And now that our hellos are out of the way, maybe we can get down to business?"

"Business?" Remus asked hesitantly.

"Right. Well, now that James is Head Boy –"

"Wait . . ." Remus said. "James is Head Boy? As in our James?"

"No, James Joyce, author of such timeless treasures as 'Ulysses' and 'Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man.'" Sirius rolled his eyes, "Of course, _our_ James."

"Wow," Remus said, battling an emotion that might have been jealousy. "Lily and the position of Head Boy. . . ."

James broke away from the kiss. "I know. I'm one lucky bastard."

"Well, you're half right," Sirius teased, pelting him with another raisin. "Now that James is Head Boy, we're gonna have to be extra careful, but I've already planned our first prank of the year."

Remus' smile faded, "I'm not on board with this."

Sirius' smile faltered, "With what, mate?"

"With pranks," Remus said, deliberately not looking at Sirius. "I say we keep our heads down this year."

"It's our last year," Sirius said. "Mate, it's our _seventh_ year. We've always planned a big finish. We've always wanted one last hurrah, one they'll remember us by."

"No, _you've _always wanted that. I've just wanted to pass and move on."

The awkward silence between them was interrupted by the lady with the food trolley. "Anything off the cart, dears?" she asked, looking from glare to glare.

James politely bought cauldron cakes for everyone. "Oh, hey, look! A peace offering. Can you two knock it off now?"

Sirius rounded on Peter. "Ol' Wormtail likes the idea of pranking this year, don't you?"

Peter stared up at him wide-eyed, unsure what to say. "I – I – I think you're both right?" he stammered timidly, looking for someone to tell him what side to be on.

"Sirius, stop being a bully," Lily said firmly.

"Oh, shut up!" Sirius snapped at her. "You're not even one of us, so stay out of shit you don't understand, okay?"

"Lay off, Padfoot," James said, rushing to Lily's defense.

"Oh, sure! Defend her!" Sirius stood up. "She openly hates me and you don't even care about your best friend anymore. Fuck you."

"Sirius . . ." Peter squeaked softly. "Come on. . . . It's our last year. . . . I don't wanna lose my best friends."

Sirius sat back down and stared out the window at the countryside racing by.

Remus quietly picked at his cauldron cake. The train ride couldn't go fast enough.


	4. Inquisition

Remus stepped into Dumbledore's office for the first time since he had graduated Hogwarts. It awed him how nothing seemed to have changed, but everything felt different. The students looked younger and the professors looked older, but other than that it was identical to the school he had known for so long. He could have walked these halls in his sleep. There were the scorch marks on the wall from when James set off fireworks to postpone an exam he hadn't studied for back in their sixth year. And the stairs Sirius had charmed so that they trapped students and teachers alike like flypaper – even Peter had accidentally gotten caught on them – during their first year. Oh, and there was the painting Remus and Peter had sweet-talked into spying on Snape and making loud farting noises every time he tried to speak their fourth year. It was hard to believe that he had graduated two years ago and left that world behind for a far more chaotic adult life.

His heart warmed with nostalgia. Things had been so much simpler then. In those days, the biggest concerns were whether or not there would be pudding for dessert and if the Gryffindor quidditch team had stiff competition that year. Well, grades were a bit of concern as well, but only to Peter who really had to work to stay afloat and Remus who desperately studied so that he was worth something to the world. Nowadays, Remus couldn't hold down a job because of his "condition," so he devoted all of his time to the Order of the Phoenix. It was an honour to be hand-picked by Dumbledore for a resistance movement, even if his job simply was ambassador to the werewolves. It wasn't a walk in the park, especially considering most of the werewolves followed Fenrir Greyback and his extremist ideologies. Remus had a lovely collection of scars from the many dominance fights he had gotten into with them, including a vibrant pink scratch across his face that was still healing.

"How are you feeling, Mr. Lupin? Please, have a seat." Dumbledore smiled softly, but it did not reach his eyes. Remus knew he was not here for a casual chat. These days, nobody had casual chats. Every conversation was practically an Inquisition. With all the suspicion flying around, you could never tell if the companion you had over for brunch was going to murder you or not.

"I'm well. . . ." Remus replied uncertainly. "I haven't made much progress, though. The werewolves not already aligned with Greyback and the Death Eaters want to stay well out of trouble's path. I doubt we'll have more than a handful on our side if it comes down to a fight."

"A pity . . . but I suppose that was to be expected. Tea?" Dumbledore offered, fingers lightly gripping a porcelain teapot.

"Yes, thank you," Remus accepted politely as his mother had always taught him to do. He crossed his legs awkwardly and rested the saucer on his knee once Dumbledore handed it to him. He brought the teacup to his lips and hesitated. His keen nose detected soothing chamomile, a squeeze of lemon for zest, and the faintest trace of scotch, as if the person who had used the cup last had had a stiff drink that hadn't entirely been washed away. Remus could have used a dash of alcohol, too. He politely took a sip. "It's very good."

"Thank you." Dumbledore steepled his fingers and watched him for a while. It made Remus distinctly uncomfortable to be the object of scrutiny with those electric blue eyes piercing right through him, but he bore it. After what seemed an eternity, Dumbledore quietly asked, "Do you know about the prophecy, Remus?"

"What prophecy?" Remus asked, genuinely confused.

"About the Potters?" Dumbledore urged, trying to draw it out of him.

"No, sir." Remus frowned. He was so confused by what was going on. Why was Dumbledore asking such strange questions? What prophecy? The Potters as in Lily and James? Were they in danger?

"There is a mole in the Order. Do you know anything about that?" Dumbledore asked. "Anything at all? I assure you, everything you say here is in the strictest confidence."

Remus tried to remain calm despite the perceived accusation. A mole in the Order? That put everyone in danger – more than they had bargained for when they had signed up. "Is it not Severus Snape, sir? He does bear the Dark Mark. . . ."

"I am aware of where Severus' loyalties lie. But there is another. Who is it? We've narrowed it down to one of three." There was a fire in Dumbledore's eyes the likes of which Remus had never seen before. He suddenly realized why kindly old Albus Dumbledore was the only man who scared Voldemort. Remus was terrified, but stayed in his seat. "And you're one of them, Mr. Lupin."

"I don't know, sir."

"You don't know?"

"No, I don't! Sir, I swear," Remus exclaimed, "you can rifle around in my brain all you want. You can give me Veritaserum or empty my head into a pensieve. You won't find anything. I don't know anything. . . . I wish I did. I want to help you, but I can't."

"One of your friends is a mole for the Death Eaters and you don't know?" Dumbledore's glare could have cut a diamond. "We know it's a Marauder, Remus."

"No!" Remus shouted back, rising out of his chair. "No, you're wrong! It can't be!"

"You seem more defensive than surprised, Mr. Lupin," Dumbledore peered at him over the rim of his glasses. "Could it be that you also have a suspect in mind?"

"I . . ." Remus stammered.

Dumbledore quietly met his gaze and held it. "I believe that you are innocent, Remus. Regardless of your tainted blood, you are not a monster. Men should not be judged by anything more than their actions. . . . But I think that you know the culprit. Please. Is there anyone whose actions stand out? Has anyone told you anything?"

Sirius. It had to be. Remus sat down and swallowed hard. Lily had said that Sirius was their secret keeper, that Sirius had gone missing for large periods of time only to return as if nothing had happened. He certainly had a history of sociopath-level pranks. But Remus couldn't believe that Sirius would betray his friends like this. Sirius and James were practically brothers. Sirius was James' son's godfather. It couldn't be Sirius. But it wasn't Remus . . . and it couldn't be Peter. . . . Conflicted, Remus shook his head.

Dumbledore sighed and bowed his head. "I see. . . ." He leaned back in his chair and massaged his temples. Remus felt awful. He couldn't imagine being in Dumbledore's shoes – headmaster, leader of a resistance movement, the wizard who saved the world the last time it was in jeopardy. Everyone expected him to do something now, but – for some unspoken reason – he couldn't.

Dumbledore's lips pursed softly as he calculated his next move. After a lengthy pause, he sighed, "Thank you for the lovely chat, Mr. Lupin. We must do this again some time, perhaps with some scones."

Remus put the cup and saucer on the headmaster's desk and stood uncertainly. "Yes. Thank you."

"But do try not to leave the country until we sort this out," Dumbledore added, sounding perfectly innocent while being incredibly intimidating.

"Yes, sir. . . . Of course." As if anywhere else in the world were safe.


	5. Revelation

"I suppose you've read the paper?" a cool voice drawled from the doorway to Remus Lupin's brand new office.

Remus jumped, nearly dropping the bucket of fish he was feeding to the grindylow he kept in a tank near the door. "Oh, Severus! I didn't see you there." Between his flowing black robes and long black hair that covered his pallid face, Severus Snape tended to blend right into the shadows, something that had likely served him well in his days of unpopularity and espionage. Remus gestured to him comfortably, "Come in."

"I've brought your potion and today's issue of _The Daily Prophet_," Severus said, entering the office. He looked around, his dark brown eyes taking everything in. Remus could feel the deep sense of judgment as Snape looked over what the new teacher had done to the office, filling it with dark animals and objects, tools for future lessons. While other Defense Against the Dark Arts professors tended to focus on the theoretical, Remus preferred to teach the kids a more hands-on, practical approach and had to have a place to store them. The only truly personal touch Remus had added to the office was a phonograph and small collection of records to listen to squeezed into a corner for the times when he had to do his grading.

Severus no doubt would have organized the room and the course in a completely different manner, one more conducive to his particular methods of teaching. Everyone knew that the potions master wanted the Defense Against the Dark Arts position and applied for it every single year, despite the string of bad luck that seemed to plague the position from the time it had been instated, preventing someone from teaching the class twice. Snape felt it was worth the risk and, frankly, so did Remus; the job was already better than any occupation he had held before and he knew at least this employer wouldn't fire him because of his medical condition. Ultimately, Dumbledore chose to believe in Lupin's ability as a teacher and kept Snape in the dungeons with his perpetually bubbling cauldrons. But despite the history between them and regardless of the fact that Remus had been given the job Snape desperately wanted, there was surprisingly little animosity between them.

A lot had changed since that horrible failed prank fifteen years ago. James and Lily were gone, the last two to fall at Voldemort's hand. Peter was gone, betrayed by a man he thought was his friend. Sirius was an escaped felon, bound to receive the Dementor's Kiss as soon as they caught him. And now Snape and Remus were coworkers – at Hogwarts together once again – teammates. They weren't the best of friends (and probably never would be), but they got along, holding conversations and nodding to one another in the halls. It was rather surreal.

"Thank you," Remus said. "You can just put the potion on the desk if you like." He motioned to the bucket of fish in his arm. "I'll take it as soon as I'm done."

"You're supposed to drink it while it's hot," Snape said, matter-of-factly, not planning on leaving until he saw Remus drink it with his own eyes. Just because they were no longer enemies did not mean Snape was comfortable with the fact that one of his peers was lycanthropic.

Remus sighed, tiredly putting the bucket down. "Very well. Give it here."

There was absolutely nothing appealing about the steaming chalice. It smelled like melting rubber and tasted even worse. The liquid was a foul shade of green and had to be taken so hot that it would scald most people. All in all, though, it was still better than the excruciating pain of the monthly transformations. Reluctantly, he toasted Snape and downed it in a single swallow, coughing slightly and resisting the urge to make a face. "Thank you, Severus."

"Of course," Severus replied, taking the chalice back with his long fingers.

Remus returned to his primary task of feeding the grindylow, dangling a fish over the tank. "You brought the paper, you said? Anything worth reading?"

"Twelve years in Azkaban and he still can't resist being the centre of attention," Severus Snape drawled monotonously, handing Remus a copy of The Daily Prophet. Remus stopped feeding the grindylow long enough to look.

_BLACK STILL AT LARGE_, the front page headline read. Underneath it was a horrible mugshot of Sirius screaming like a lunatic at the photographer. There was another photo underneath that of what Sirius looked like now after over a decade in prison. Were it not for the caption, Remus never would have recognized him. Gaunt, twisted, and covered in scars, he looked nothing like the attractive, confident, carefree boy he had been. He looked insane, capable of committing unspoken horrors. Remus tossed the newspaper onto his desk in disgust, unable to read it.

Snape smirked at Remus' reaction. "Miss him?"

"Like a thorn in my side," Remus growled, chucking the rest of the fish into the tank and startling the sea creature within.

"I suppose I needn't tell you about the rumours among the staff," Snape said, flicking an invisible speck of dirt from his robes.

"The rumours?" Remus asked uncertainly, quickly washing his hands to get rid of the smell.

Snape met his eyes coolly. "People are uncertain about your loyalty."

"My loyalty is to Harry and Dumbledore. No one need ever question that," Remus snapped defensively. He hated people thinking he was evil simply because of a condition he had no control over. Everyone was prejudiced against werewolves, especially werewolves with ties to dangerous criminals. He had tried all his life to be a good man, but people still judged him. "And if anyone questions my loyalty, they are free to ask me themselves."

"Very well," Snape said, checking the time. "I really should be getting back to my office. My students turned in rather pitiful attempts at Shrinking Solutions that are in desperate need of grading before Thursday."

"Of course," Remus nodded. "Good luck on those."

"Thank you. I will undoubtedly need it." Snape paused in the doorway. "I'm sure I needn't ask, but the Headmaster wants to know: should your _friend_ cross your path, will you turn him into the proper authorities?"

"Sirius Black is not my friend." Remus sat at his desk, tossing the newspaper into the wastebasket. "And if he's stupid enough to cross my path, it'll be the last mistake he makes."


End file.
